


The New Age

by sourwulfur



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Multi, Post - The Death Cure, contains spoilers, i really don't know how to tag this, memory tamporing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas, a twenty-year-old university student, finds his world turned upside down when he sees a news article on a familiar face. What does <i>The W Corporation</i> have to do with it and with the collapse? Most importantly, are his dreams real? Thomas is not sure he wants to know, but he may not get a choice. Things are continuing to change. <i>Welcome to the New Age.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://mylifeinyourhandsameliapond.tumblr.com/) awesome person suggested to me that I write something for TMR to help me with my lack of inspiration to write. So, this happened. Here we go.


	2. One: The News Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas' life will change.

Everyone knew the story of the end of the world, of the sun flares and the scorched earth outside the safe havens that would not know life for several hundreds of years. Researchers were trying to figure out how to make the areas inhabitable once again; but, it was difficult. Their world was slowly rebuilding, using knowledge and technologies that survived the end of the world.

 

Everyone knew the story of the collapse, the loss of life for the majority of those people who had survived the immediate fallout of the solar flares. They knew of the giant building in the middle of the dry zone that was slowly being taken over by _plants_. What nobody knew was what the building had been for. There were no documents left in any of the rooms that still stood. The few computers that were not in pieces had been wiped clean. There was no record of anybody that may have possibly been in that building at any point. There was only one thing signifying the building as anything. There, in the ivy that crept out of nowhere, over the sides of the building and through the cracks in the walls, was a single plaque on the side of the ruins. It simply read:

 

**W I C K E D**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey, what's that?” asked Thomas as he slid into his usual seat there in the cafeteria of the university he was attending with a nod to the news screen in the corner. At twenty years old, Thomas was the youngest person in his field to be scouted as an intern for different corporations around the surviving cities around the world. He was smart, almost too smart, and that was why they wanted him. His classmates always teased him about it, but Thomas just laughed, made a self-deprecating comment, and shrugged. He had no interest in working at any of those businesses. They all claimed the same thing; to want to fix the world. Thomas was rather fond of his world, and held no desire to change anything.

 

The group of people he always sat with were others in his area of study, the ones he grew closest to, including his roommate. Ella, the only girl who even attempted to study mathematics, was a fiery red head with sharp, blue eyes and a wicked tongue. She was like a sister to Thomas and made sure that he never missed a deadline. She rolled her eyes at the fact that he had yet to hear the news. “You need to start paying attention to world events,” she stated, sighing heavily as if the fact he had better things to do than watch the news was the worst thing ever. Which, to her, it probably was.

 

Thomas shrugged, reaching up to scratch the side of his face before pushing the stocking hat he wore back enough that it sat correctly on his head again. “So, you going to tell me what the story is about or not?”

 

Ella sighed heavily, as if it were a great inconvenience to have to speak to Thomas about what was going on. “Some kid was found in an alleyway in a town called Louisville. He was shoved into the bottom of a dumpster. No one knows who killed the kid or why, just that they don't want to be found.”

 

She nodded toward the screen when the news broadcast put the young man's picture up once again. Thomas' stomach knotted uncomfortably as he studied the face on the screen, his grip tightening slightly on the fork in his hand. The face seemed very familiar to the student in a way that made the tightening grow so strong that he felt as if he were going to be sick. The tightness grew up his chest to his lungs until Thomas felt like he could not breathe.

 

He barely heard Ella as she asked him what was wrong, his breath coming in panicked pants that he could not explain away. Thomas shoved himself up from the table and quickly left the cafeteria, making his way out to the courtyard. Once outside, his breaths became easier, though each one rattled his bones. Thomas had no idea why he was reacting like he did, but he felt terrified and a deep sadness that he could not explain, either. Moments later, Ella came rushing to his side, and Thomas' brow furrowed as he looked to her, his brow furrowing. “I knew him,” Thomas said softly, the words slow and hoarse in his throat. Ella's look of confusion matched the feeling that Thomas had, unable to explain just where the words came from. “I don't know how; but, I _knew_ him.”

 

“Tom,” Ella started to say, flinching when Thomas glared at her. She had forgotten. He hated nicknames. “Thomas,” she corrected, sighing softly as she shook her head. “You didn't. I’ve known you... forever. I would have known him too, and I didn't.”

 

Wetting his lips idly, Thomas shook his head as he stared across the courtyard, his eyes darting from person to person as they went about their lives. “I knew him, Ella.” Thomas could not explain it, did not know if he wanted to be able to. All he knew was that as he finally let his best friend lead him to their shared psychology class, he was met with a deeply settled feeling of something being _wrong_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We did it!” crowed Michael, better known as Mickey, as the gang sat around a circle table at one of the bars in town. Alcohol was slowly becoming popular as tricks for manufacturing it began to be circulated once again. A world rebuilding had right to simple pleasures, after all.

 

The six young men, and woman, who were known for working on a long-standing mathematics problem that could help with their energy crisis had finally cracked it earlier in the day. They were to be recognized by the university, as well as some random corporation that was funding the entire thing. Thomas could not really remember their name. He did not care too much, though. He was too busy trying to focus on anything but the unsettled feeling in his stomach that had not gone away since the news report he had seen several days before. Maybe it had something to do with the nightmares that were making it difficult for him to sleep. Pushing aside all those thoughts, Thomas smiled as he and his partners raised their shot glasses in a toast over the middle of the table before downing the amber liquid in the glass.

 

Thomas coughed as he placed the glass on the table, laughing through the burning sensation as Carl thumped him on the back. “We are officially the biggest nerds on this damn planet,” Carl insisted with a lop-sided grin. “Anyone would be stupid not to hire us. We're gonna fix the world.”

 

Thomas frowned a little at his friend's words, but it went unnoticed as everyone around him continued celebrating. Something about everything felt so familiar, and _wrong_. Thomas did not like it. The hairs on the back of his neck practically stood on end, and Thomas sighed softly, glancing around him as Richard poured them all another shot. As Thomas downed another shot (not choking on it that time), he found his wandering gaze stopping on some figure lurking in one of the shadowy corners. He could not see a face, but Thomas _swore_ the person was watching him. It made him feel like running; but, instead, he laughed at a joke that Ella told and took another shot.

 

As the night went on and his friends grew more and more intoxicated, Thomas grew more sober. He stopped drinking after his third shot, unable to focus on much else with that figure in the corner watching him. “I think I’m gonna head home,” Thomas told Ella, who pouted immediately and grabbed his arm.

 

“Please stay,” she replied, brushing her bangs out of her eyes with her free hand. “It's not the same without you here.”

 

Thomas shook his head a little with a sigh. “I've got a paper for English to do, still.”

 

Ella glanced over to where Brian had managed to get Mickey to dance, much to Harry's displeasure, before looking back to Thomas. “I'll walk with you.” She smiled softly and grabbed her jacket before the two of them announced to the others that they were heading out. There were some jeers and pleas to stay, but eventually the two of them made it outside.

 

Thomas tried to not look back over his shoulder very often, but as they walked along the sidewalk, he could not help but feel like someone was following him. “Tommy, are you okay?” Ella asked, making Thomas' attention snap to her face immediately.

 

“What did you just call me?” replied the other mathematics student, an edge to his voice that he did not mean, but made Ella flinch a little.

 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Forgot that you don't like nicknames.” Ella smiled softly with a shrug of her shoulders before she let out a deep breath and looked up to the star-strewn sky. “I don't get why you don't though. Still, are you okay?”

 

“Fine.” The word did not even seem completely honest to himself, and if the look Ella gave him was anything to go buy, she did not believe it, either. “I'm just... 'Ve not been sleeping well. Nightmares.”

 

“About what?” Ella’s brow furrowed as she linked her arm with Thomas', not letting him pull away despite his attempts. “C'mon, Thomas. You can tell me.”

 

Thomas, honestly, was not so sure of that. Used to be, he could trust Ella with everything; of late, however. Well, Thomas was not sure who he could trust. The young man was not one to really question things in his life; but, ever since that news article and his dreams began, he found that the several years of _nothing_ in his memory was more and more unsettling. Thomas could remember living with his mother somewhere that seemed more rural than urban; but, then there was nothing from a young age up until he found himself arriving at college with a knowledge that he had been accepted after graduating at the top of his class. He knew that he had gone to some private school, and he knew that he was in the mathematics department. He did not _remember_ any of it, though; and, that set Thomas more on edge the more he thought about it.

 

After a moment, Thomas let out a breath that he did not even realize that he was holding, and he said, “I'm not really sure. It's... dark, and there's something chasing me; but, then everything's too bright and too hot. I can practically feel the sun burning my skin when I wake. It's the same dream every night, but I barely remember any of it when I wake up.”

 

Ella hummed softly as they walked into the dorm building, brushing her hair out of her face once again. “Well, Thomas, it's just a dream,” replied Ella, smiling softly at her friend as she gently squeezed his arm before hitting the button to call the elevator down to the ground floor. “Come up to mine. We can watch that documentary on what we know about the collapse.”

 

“No, thanks, Ella.” Thomas sighed and shook his head, running his fingers through his hands before they stepped onto the elevator. He hit the button for her floor and then his, which was three floors above hers. “I think I’m just gonna try to get some sleep.” As expected, Ella tried to convince him to change his mind; but, a few minutes later, he was unlocking the door to his dorm and going in alone.

 

Thomas shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over to drape over a chair in the corner as he made his way over to his bed. With a heavy sigh, the young man collapsed onto the bed and closed his eyes, not even bothering to take off his shoes. Thomas was almost asleep when a familiar voice that caused a warmth in his chest crossed through his consciousness, “ _Stupid shank_ ”.


	3. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas meets and old friend and runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, okay. I forgot I had this story at all. The 2nd chapter was mostly done on my computer, so I started to write on it again. I'm sorry if this chapter feels odd because of that, but I hope to update again soon, and hopefully better.

“Rough night?” Ella questioned Thomas the next morning as she handed him a cup of coffee made to his preference. It had just a little bit of milk, and a lot of sugar.

 

Thomas simply nodded, taking a drink of the coffee before he said, “Trouble sleeping.”

 

“Insomnia?”

 

“Nightmares. Again.” Thomas frowned as he sat down at his desk in the large, white room filled with dry erase boards that held numerous equations and theories scattered on them. The room was off-limits to anyone that was not a department leader or in Thomas' group.

 

Ella frowned slightly as well, sitting on the edge of Thomas' desk, seemingly mentally kicking herself for not remembering that Thomas had already explained that he had nightmares. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Thomas shook his head with a sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Nothing to talk about. I don't remember anything about them, still.” Except the blood-curtailing screams that made him wince as they floated across his memory.

 

“Thomas,” stated Doctor Morgan as he came sweeping into the room in his pristine, white lab coat. “You look like shit. Go home and get some rest.”

 

“Nah. I’m fine,” Thomas replied with a shake of his head before taking a big drink of the coffee Ella had given him. “Just give me something to work on.”

 

His professor seemed reluctant to agree, but eventually, he put Thomas on the task of helping to figure out ways to preserve what world they had left to protect. That was how Thomas spent his day until well after the sun had set, though he did not make very much progress. There were too many numbers and unclear facts to sort through. He left the university after the rest of his friends had, promising to meet up with them at the bar after he was done.

 

Slowly, Thomas walked in that direction, lighting a cigarette as he went. The young man was not really fond of smoking, but when he got really stressed... well, he was entitled to a bad habit, okay? Thomas was a block away from the bar when he started to be bothered by the feeling that someone was watching him, following him. Thomas' steps slowed as he dropped the cigarette butt to the ground with a slight glance over his shoulder. No one was there.

 

Rolling his eyes at himself, he started to walk forward again, only to stumble to a halt when he noticed someone directly in front of him. “Jesus,” Thomas breathed, laughing a little.

 

“No, Minho,” the other young man, a boy with dark hair of obvious Asian descent said with a grin. “Hiya, Tommy.”

 

Thomas' brow furrowed as he gave the guy a once over. “Do I know you?” he questioned, not sure at _all_ who the man in front of him was.

 

“Very funny.” Minho rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've been looking _everywhere_ for you since you ran off. Which, I should skin you alive for that!”

 

“Ran off...? Look, guy, I don't even know you.” The grin on Minho's face slowly fell at Thomas' exasperated tone. “If you'll excuse me, I’ve got to be somewhere.”

 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Minho's eyes narrowed as Thomas tried to move around him. The other man did not make it but a step before Minho grabbed his arm, making him practically stumble to a stop. “Now, listen here, shuckface, I didn't come all this way for you to just walk off.”

 

“'Shuckface'?” Thomas pulled a face as he yanked his arm out of Minho's grasp. “Whatever. I don't care how far you came from. I’ve got to go, now. Goodbye.”

 

“Wicked's trying shit again, Thomas,” Minho said with a scowl, ignoring the other's attempt at departure. “People keep disappearing. _Gladers_ are going missing.”

 

Thomas' expression was one of complete apathy as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is any of that supposed to mean anything to me?”

 

“Yes! Listen, slinthead, obviously you did something else to that head of yours, or Wicked did; but, Thomas, just... We need help. Our friends keep _dying_.” Minho sighed as the expression on Thomas' face did not falter.

 

Thomas just continued to seem completely _indifferent_. “We're in a fallout. People die every day. Sad but true.”

 

The other man groaned in frustration, nearly yanking his hair out as he ran a hand through the strands. “Yes, but you've already nearly _died_ for these ones, Thomas. Surely, that means something to you.”

 

With a sigh, Thomas wet his lips and shrugged. “I've got other things to worry about besides people I’ve _never met_. You've got me confused with someone else. I’ve never left the city.”

 

Thomas kept walking with another shrug, even as Minho spoke again. “I know who you are, Thomas. You still have the mark, don't you? On your collar bone. _Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A2. To be killed by Group B_.”

 

The mention of the tattoo that Thomas could not explain, the one that he had not told _anyone_ about made him freeze in his steps again, idly lifting a hand to rest over where the black ink sat beneath his clothing. “How do you know about that?” he questioned as he turned to look at the other young man again.

 

Minho's smirk was mixed with a slight sadness as he said, “I told you, shank. I know who you are.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A short while later, Thomas let himself and Minho into his dorm room. “So, how do you know me?” questioned Thomas, watching the other young man warily as Minho wandered around the room.

 

“It's a long story,” he replied, picking up one of Thomas' textbooks to flip through. “It's not exactly pretty, either.”

 

“Tell me.” Thomas held fast, expression determined as Minho watched him for several moments. It was only when he saw Thomas continue to remain unfaltering that Minho nodded and sat aside the book he had picked.

 

That was how, several hours later, Thomas found himself sitting numbly on the couch while Minho sat on one of the armchairs, finally quiet after telling Thomas everything that he supposedly needed to know. It all seemed too insane to be true. _How_ could any of it be true? A maze, the Cranks? Thomas had never seen one personally. At the same time though, something about it _felt_ right. It felt more right than studying at the university to solve problems for some unknown corporation. W-Corp... Wicked. All of the information made Thomas' stomach churn. He barely made it to the bathroom, unaware of his own movements even, before he emptied the contents of his stomach.

 

Thomas tossed water from the sink onto his face once he felt like the room was no longer spinning, and only then did he realize that he was not alone in the bathroom. Minho was there with him, a hand on his shoulder. “This is all _crazy_. _You're_ crazy,” Thomas said, almost muttering the words to himself. Yet even as he said them, he trusted the other man, probably more than he should. “What do you want from me?”

 

Minho gave Thomas a sad smile, then, and gently squeezed Thomas' arm. “Come with me,” Minho insisted, tilting his head backward toward the hallway that led to the front door.

 

Go _with him_? To where? And to what purpose? Thomas kept playing all the new information over in his head, trying to make sense of it. He wanted to scream in frustration because nothing made sense, and he hated it. Just then, the front door burst open and Thomas heard his roommate along with Ella calling his name. They both sounded fairly drunk, and insistent in Ella’s case. “Come on, Tommy-boy, you're _late_!” she called, making Minho arch a brow with a smirk that Thomas wanted to knock off of his face.

 

“Slim it, slinthead,” replied Thomas with a grumble, though a look of shock and confusion crossed his face a moment later when he realized what he had just said, making Minho laugh.

 

“Thomas? Who's with you?” Ella came down the hallway to where the bathroom was, Thomas' roommate close behind. She seemed to tense immediately once she spotted Minho and her hand went to her belt as if she were reaching for something that wasn't there. “You.”

 

Minho's eyes widened slightly and it seemed to take only a second's breath before he was shoving the girl into the other man in the hallway, causing them both to stumble over. She fell because Thomas' roommate was taken by surprise and could not seem to catch her. Minho immediately took out into a sprint toward the door and called over his shoulder, “Thomas, _run_!”

 

“Get back here!” Ella called from the floor, glaring in the direction that Minho was going and that seemed to be all it took for Thomas to break into a run after the other man, dodging Ella and the man on the floor. It all seemed to happen so slowly, though a part of Thomas was aware that it happened in a matter of mere moments.

 

Thomas stumbled only once when Ella made an attempt to grab his ankle, calling after him to stop. It was as he reached the front door that he swore he heard Ella saying to someone about how _he escaped_. Nothing made sense to Thomas as he ran, following the head of dark hair he saw weaving in and out of the people on the street. He felt a sense of relief on top of the complete and utter confusion that mixed with fear. Thomas kept up with Minho better than he expected himself to, as if it was something he had done before.

 

It was only when he and Minho came to a stop inside one of the abandoned, old warehouses downtown out of breath with some laughter from Thomas that he remembered. Apparently it _was_ something he had done before. “I have... _no_ bloody clue what is going on,” Thomas admitted between deep breaths, lifting both hands to run through his hair, “or why you knocked down my best friend.”

 

Minho hid a flash of hurt that crossed his face at Thomas' words, and immediately grumbled out, “She wasn't your friend, Thomas. She works for Wicked. My guess is she was sent to monitor you.”

 

“Monitor me?” Thomas' brow furrowed as he rested his hands on his hips just below where his sides hurt as he continued to take deep breaths in a way that slowly brought his heart rate back down. Something about that made him feel sick all over again. He _trusted_ Ella; but, if Wicked was really as bad as Minho said...

 

“Speculation only. C'mon, Thomas. Let's get outta this hole.”

 

Thomas nodded in agreement, though it was half-hearted at best. He was not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, or if he should agree to it at all. Still, he followed Minho as the other boy walked into the darkness that claimed the far end of the street. He followed Minho, and somehow, he was calm.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“It's about time you got back here, shank!” was the first thing Thomas heard. It was a voice he did not recognize; but, as they entered a dimly lit clearing outside the city limits, Minho seemed to relax. A smile formed on his face as he approached the man who had spoken and they gave one another one of those awkward one-armed hugs. “The city that difficult to navigate? Some runners you are.”

 

“Slim it, Alby,” replied Minho, though there was an amused smirk on his face. Minho then glanced back at Thomas, who stood awkwardly several feet behind him, before looking to Alby once again. “We've got a problem.” Alby sighed and said something under his breath that Thomas could not quite make out. “This shuckface doesn't remember anything... _again_.”

 

Thomas continued to stand there awkwardly as Alby slowly looked over to him. There was silence for only a moment before Alby was swearing and walking off while throwing his hands in the air, talking about stupid Wicked and something about screwing everyone over. “I'm sorry,” Thomas said quietly, though Alby seemed not to hear.

 

Minho smiled slightly at Thomas, though, and walked over to where Thomas stood. “I'm sure you'll remember us soon enough. You're a Glader, too.”

 

With that, Minho turned and started to walk over to the campfire where several others were standing. Thomas sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Something told him that his confusion was only beginning; and, at that moment, he would give anything to be able to just turn around and go back to his apartment and go to sleep. Something told him, though, it was going to be a long time before he ever returned to the city, if ever. It saddened him, but something he could not explain compelled him to walk forward, to follow Minho over to the fire and sit on one of the fallen logs. It felt right, as if he was supposed to be there. Though he had a million questions running through his mind, Thomas felt no need to ask them just yet. Maybe Minho was right, and he would remember on his own, or things would at least make sense again.

 

Thomas listened quietly as everyone else talked, their voices overlapping with laughter and smiles that did not seem to reach anyones' eyes. Several others monitored the edge of the clearing, walking in circles around them while watching for any signs of danger. It felt almost normal to Thomas, normal enough that he did not feel the need to ask why they were standing guard or who they were standing guard from. Wicked, most likely. Thomas glanced over at Minho, who was deep in conversation with a girl to his right about someone named Brenda meeting them somewhere in a few days. “She'll have more information than I will,” Minho said, glancing over at Thomas after feeling the other young man's eyes on him. Thomas looked away then, back to the fire in front of him, while thinking over everything once again.

 

Nothing bothered him more than the fact that he did not _know_ what was going on or why he was there. A faint brush of fingers against his hand from the right, where Minho sat, made him relax instantly; and, for once, Thomas did not question it. He just took a deep breath and stopped thinking.

 


End file.
